


Breakable

by Traxits



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: First Aid, M/M, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 05:58:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7422592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traxits/pseuds/Traxits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He always forgot how fragile Tseng actually was.  And then work would catch up to him, and suddenly Sephiroth would remember all over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakable

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://traxits.tumblr.com/post/146315599047/if-its-something-you-can-get-your-head-around) on my Tumblr.

No one, not even the admittedly impressive Wutaian cleaners in Eight that Tseng preferred, would be able to get the bloodstains out of the jacket hanging loosely from Tseng’s fingertips. Even if they could, Sephiroth could count at least three gaping holes in the dark blue material. Knives. He glanced up to watch the numbers tick down in the elevator.

“Long day?” he murmured.

Tseng barely moved as he nodded. Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t look back over.

“I hope you aren’t planning on canceling our dinner plans.”

A faint smile twitched at the corners of Tseng’s lips.

“Of course not, General,” he replied, and Sephiroth was relieved to hear that edge of wry humor in his voice.

Sephiroth wasn’t surprised in the slightest when Tseng refused to let him drive. No one but Tseng drove that sleek black sportscar, just like no one but Tseng broke so many traffic laws on such a short trip. What should have been a forty minute commute was only fifteen or twenty with Tseng behind the wheel.

For the first time in his life, Sephiroth was mildly grateful for it. Even then, by the time Tseng parked the car, blood had started to stain his white dress shirt.

Sephiroth resisted the urge to pick Tseng up and carry him to the apartment. He’d learned from experience that the Turk did not take kindly to such treatment, no matter how expedient it was.

There was a slight tremor in Tseng’s hand as he put the key in the lock, and Sephiroth waited until the door shut behind them to decide what he was going to do. He twisted the lock, then he pulled Tseng into his arms and headed straight on to the bathroom.

“Shoes,” Tseng started, but he didn’t actually fight Sephiroth.

“In a minute,” Sephiroth said, and once they were in the bathroom, he set Tseng down on the edge of the counter. He dropped down to his knees to peel off Tseng’s sensible black shoes and his socks, and he wrapped his fingers loosely around Tseng’s ankle for a heartbeat, reminding himself of how vulnerable Tseng truly was, how breakable. It was easy to forget under all that confidence that Tseng wore, but like this, in the quiet of the bathroom, slight tremors still racing through his body, Sephiroth could remember.

He wasn’t sure he liked the reminder.

“How bad is it?” he finally asked, and Tseng leaned back to prop himself up against the wall.

“Not. More tired than anything.”

Sephiroth glanced back up at him, and then he stood. Tseng watched him for a long moment, and then smiled faintly before he waved a hand. “Go on,” he murmured, and before Sephiroth could ask him what he was inviting Sephiroth to do exactly, Tseng reached up and started opening up his shirt.

Sephiroth snorted slightly, then he got the first aid kit from the shelf over the toilet. Bandaging Tseng up was at once familiar and not. While Sephiroth had long since been instructed on such first aid, it simply wasn’t a skill he’d ever practiced. He had little reason to, given that most injuries he sustained healed almost as quickly as they appeared. Still, since he and Tseng had started these dinners together, he’d had far more practice than he’d ever truly wanted.

Once he got Tseng cleaned up and bandaged, he sighed, stepping back. Tseng reached out to catch him by the hand and drew him in close. Tseng was so tired that his eyes were barely open, but he still managed that little smile, as though he had a secret he was daring everyone to figure out. Sephiroth let Tseng pull him in until Sephiroth stood between Tseng’s knees, and Tseng leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Sephiroth’s lips. Sephiroth’s eyes closed, and for a heartbeat, that’s all it was. Something soft. Sweet.

Then he pushed his fingers in between Tseng’s, tightened his hold on Tseng’s hand, and kissed him properly, tilting his head and parting those lips and letting him know, in no uncertain terms, that he was wanted.

When he pulled back, Tseng had to drag in a deeper breath to steady himself, and Sephiroth gave him a smile of his own.

“Get some rest,” he murmured. “Dinner will be here when you get up.”

Tseng didn’t move. He just looked up at Sephiroth until finally, he asked, “Will you?”

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow, and then he pulled away so at he could take his own boots off. It was the closest thing to an answer that he’d give, and he knew from Tseng’s expression that he understood it.


End file.
